


In My Defense, Spring

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Choking, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Essentially banging their way to redemption, Exhibitionism, F/M, Humiliation, Light Knifeplay, Memory Loss, Punishment, Reincarnation, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Sub!Clarke, The 100 WTFluff Challenge, dom!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:37:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20429846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: In some lives, he is kind. In others, he's the one who remembers too late and kills her. In this life, the hurt is as close as Clarke can get to Bellamy. He washes her clean anyway.If she can't have his love, lust is good enough."Let's see if royalty was taught to beg."*Written for The 100 WTFluff challenge prompt: Being forced to beg in a reincarnation AU.





	In My Defense, Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Before you start reading, I just want to clarify that 99% of this fic is kink and sexual content. (The consent is enthusiastic, so don't worry.) I did my best to tag it all (especially the roughest stuff) so make sure you **heed the tags** and skip out on this one if it's not your cup of tea. I'll write you coffee soon, I promise!
> 
> Now that's out of the way, writing this was fun. I don't get a chance to explore the dark versions of Bellamy and Clarke's personalities often. While this _is_ a fic about knocking boots, it's primarily a fic about redemption and all the ways humans look for it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on how I did!
> 
> Title is from Cristin O'Keefe's poem [_Not Doing Something Wrong Isn’t the Same as Doing Something Right.___](https://fingerprintsonglass.wordpress.com/2016/03/17/in-my-defense-spring-five-poems-by-cristin-okeefe-aptowicz/)____
> 
> __  
_Enjoy!_  


_ So in my defense, when he touched me the lights of my body came on. _

_ In my defense, the windows were thrown open. In my defense, spring. _

\- **Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz** \- 

* * *

In some lives, he's kind. She remembers him by touch alone, the heat seeping from his skin. They fall in love impossibly, sweetly, all first days of spring everywhere.

In some lives, Bellamy is someone Clarke can fall in love with.

In others, bile rises in her throat whenever she looks at him.

He sneers at her from atop a throne, and she knows she is nothing to him in a life that pits them against one another.

"On your knees, Princess."

Sometimes Clarke is the one who remembers first. The apocalypse wiped them clean, made them relive a thousand lifetimes without ever falling asleep completely. 

Bellamy is looking at her now and she knows the memories haven't set in yet.

Clarke is looking at him and she remembers why his cruelty is nothing new.

So she falls to her knees, giving him just the thing he wants. His court jeers at the traitor. 

"You've killed a hundred of my men," he says, calm, picking at his fingernails with a knife. His sister is right next to him.

She repeats herself too, lifetime to lifetime. In this one, Octavia remembers Clarke. Comes to her chambers when she's captured, even offers to make an escape plan.

_ It's pointless,_ Clarke tells her. She's missed Bellamy anyway. He always washes her clean.

"You've killed two hundred of mine once upon a time," Clarke counters, grinning at him mirthlessly. 

It's just like a game at this point. He could shoot her dead (_has _shot her dead - she remembers) and she would be happy to see him, knowing they'll come back anyway.

In some lives, he has killed her. In some, he remembered just as he watched life flow out of her eyes and she could see him clutching her body, realizing what he'd done.

In others, it was Clarke who killed him first. 

"But you're in my territory, aren't you?" he asks, smirking at her bound hands, at her knees on the stone floor.

"Wasted territory for a wasted king."

He's handsome, even when he's angry. _ Because _he is angry. Hurtles himself out of his seat, all of the tendons in his arms and his neck pulled taut when he grabs her by the throat.

It makes want pool at her core and she clenches her thighs, relishes at the way his hands feel on her neck.

Bellamy notices.

"Are you- Well, wouldn't you look at that? The Princess likes barbarians after all."

She can hear laughter echoing across the hall and Bellamy drops her to the floor. The fall hurts, but not as much as not touching him does.

"I'm gonna have fun with you, Princess. Clean her up and bring her to dinner."

***

Sometimes hurt is as close as she can get to touching him. 

Once, they were trapped on a space station together. He couldn't stand the sight of her, could only swallow her name if he said it with a sneer.

But humans have creature needs. They've been on their own for too long. Clarke missed being touched, even if it was by someone who hated her.

When he shoved her away the next time, she fell to her knees in front of him.

"What the _ fuck _are you doing?"

The disgust in his eyes made her want him even more. Perfect in every single life, cut from stone and built to endure with tight muscles. He could kill her with his hands alone.

"Come on, Bellamy. Take it out on me."

He didn't even flinch when she reached for his belt. Crossed his arms when she unbuckled it, cold.

It was only when she took him in her hand, fervent and not as calculating as she thought, that he stopped her, gave her a long glance.

"So you want this?"

She nodded, exhausted from denying this to herself - to him. It was how it was always going to be.

Bellamy smiled, too sweet. His hand cupped her cheek, ran a thumb across the edge of her teeth.

"Then it's going to be by my rules. Understood?"

She didn't even get a chance to nod. He pulled her to her feet roughly, slammed her face into the metal wall. 

"Let's see how badly you wanted this, Princess." His breath, hot on her cheek. "Pants off."

She hesitated and he hissed into her ear, "Not gonna repeat myself."

Clarke felt shame flooding her and it only made her feel better, shame like something pure that would wash everything away. He was punishing her and she wanted it.

In this life, she killed his sister to save them.

Naked in front of him, Clarke waited for the longest time. No one moved, no one spoke.

Then Bellamy drove his fingers in her and she let out a disgusting squeal, pressed closer to the wall.

"You don't deserve my kindness, Princess. I promise it's gonna hurt. But you want it that way, don't you?"

His fingers, going in and out of her, made obscene sounds. Of course she wanted it. He could _ feel _ her want.

"Disgustingly wet, just look at you." 

He spun her around, making her come face to face with his cruel grin, his fingers still fucking in and out, in and out.

"I think you _ want _to be punished. I think you're dying for it." His mouth curled into a sneer and Clarke fed off the disgust, let her toes curl with the delight of it, "Obedient little slut."

"Bellamy…"

She keened when he pulled her hair, pushed her forward with his fingers still inside her. She knew they were moving but her brain had shut off. 

He let her go only when they were in his room, the smell of musk and lavender everywhere. She flew forward to his bed, landed on her stomach with a thud.

His belt buckle clinked against all that metal and then he was pulling her into his lap, pressing a palm on her spine hard to make her lie flat.

Her wetness left stains on his pants and he threw his head back, laughing.

"Look at the mess you've made, Princess. And we're just getting started."

When the belt hit her, she felt clean.

***

They bathe her and dress her in a silky little thing uncovering more than it covers. A woman, Harper - Clarke thinks, comes to arrange her hair the way Bellamy likes it in this life.

He got all of their friends this time around. A king who was fair, but knew when to be cruel to save his people. This version of him intrigued her the most, made her let them capture her just to see him.

"Just listen to what he says and he-" Harper starts, swallowing hard.

Clarke smiles. "And he won't kill me, maybe?"

Of course he'd kill her - unless he remembered. This was just playing with his food.

When they bring her to the throne room, Clarke knows she was right. There is something dark about him, and it is a perfect match for her twisted desires.

He grins when he sees her, beckons her over with a lazy wave of his hand. 

"Come on over, Princess. We're having a banquet in your honor."

"Bell-" Octavia tries, eyeing Clarke. She just shakes her head imperceptibly. It _ is _ a game, her wetness already dripping down her thighs.

"Whatever," Octavia flips, moving out already. "I'm not staying here for this."

Bellamy scatters the plates off his table when she comes close enough, taps the wood and motions for her to sit.

When she hops onto the table, his eyes narrow in dark delight. 

"Oh no, Princess. You're not gonna face _ me_. You're gonna show the entire court how much you want this wasted king."

His palms are searing hot on her thighs and Clarke squirms. She's not wearing anything underneath the slip and she knows everyone could see the stains if he made her stand up.

"Come on, Princess. Show my court your thirsty little cunt."

Heat is traversing from the top of her head to her ankles and he's loving it. Licking his lips as he spins her around, gets her knees up and opens them in one swift move.

"What do you say? Are you going to beg for mercy like a good little princess?"

She presses her lips, shaking her head. When she tries to close her legs, he slaps the side of her thigh.

"Nuh-uh. Let's see if royalty was taught to beg."

He lifts her dress, maddeningly slow, inch by inch. She can see the faces of his court, men with hungry looks on their faces, women looking away or leaning forward.

She's so full of shame that her throat is closing with it, manages to look away and press out, "Bellamy, _ please_."

He stops dragging the silk up.

"Too late."

The court laughs when he lifts her dress all the way up to her breasts. Her wetness glistens on the table in the candlelight. 

Bellamy runs a finger through the pool already forming on the wood between her thighs, brings it to his lips.

"Cherry sweet."

More laughter comes as she stays there and he orders more food, eats as his men hold her open. 

He ignores her pleas, eats calmly like he's forgotten all about the woman spread open on his table. Miller comes at one point, tells him to stop, but Bellamy just laughs and sends him away.

"She's delicious, Miller. I'm keeping her for dessert."

She waits there for too long, unable to look up and face all of these people. In another life, they led them together. They looked up to her. Now they grin when she squirms.

Something about her is wrong, she knows when she realizes she wants him to touch her. This is not love, not like in so many other lives.

This is cruelty, and she still wants it.

"I wonder how Queen Abigail is going to react when she hears about her pretty little daughter begging to be spread open for my court."

"I'm not begging to -"

His breath fans her cheek and she remembers this well from every other life. The lust, if not always love.

"You _ are. _ Wet like a good little slut, begging to be spread open, looked at. Touched."

He's right but she's not going to let him have this.

Bellamy takes a knife in his hand and she is almost disappointed because it'll end too soon, but then she feels the metal of the handle on her thighs, dragging up and up.

He's holding her down by her hips, relishing every time she flinches.

"Bellamy, not this. Please. Not like this."

He'd fuck her with a knife handle just to humiliate her, she knows. But he must feel something because the knife clatters to the floor and then she's behind the table, on his lap, feeling every inch of him against her ass.

"Only because you asked so nicely." He bites her neck playfully, shifting her so he can drag a hand up her thigh, fingers stopping at her core. 

"You don't get to come. Understood?"

She nods but throws her head back anyway when he circles around her clit, pinches enough to make her let out an undignified shout.

Heads raise again.

"You're the best entertainment we've had in a while," he whispers, cruel as he brings her to the edge. "And look how easy you are for me."

She's pawing at his legs by the time the dessert is served, begging and keening and willing to kneel just to be allowed to come.

It's half the fun and he chuckles darkly.

"Not yet, Princess. Not yet. I want to hear you cry before I let you come. I want you to hurt so much your body can't take it."

She wants to laugh and cry and she does both, feeling him solid behind her, under her, wanting to just slip out of this dress and ride him proper.

Not in this life.

In this life, he cackles and shows his fingers off every now and then, theatrical as ever. She'll hate herself for this tomorrow but tonight, she revels in this display of how much she's always belonged to him.

"Let me come, Bellamy. Let me and I promise I'll be good."

"You'll be a good what?"

Clarke swallows. "I'll be a good little slut for my king."

Something in him cracks at the word - _ king _ \- and he slips his fingers in, finding the soft spot inside her, rubbing hard for the whole court to see.

Clarke finds his wrist and grabs onto it, doubling forward, watches his fingers disappear inside her and appear again, coated.

"Does it hurt, Princess? Does it hurt for your king?"

She nods, desperate, throat dry and voice cracked. "It hurts, it hurts so bad, Bell, please - "

He kisses her temple, all sweat and salt and heat coming off her in waves, she feels so small and ashamed and unwound.

She's always loved him. No one could ever forgive her with a single word. Not like Bellamy could.

It was always going to be him, Arcadia to Sanctum.

"Ssh, Princess. You can come now."

She spills across the floor and across the table, convulses in his hands like a rag doll pulled at the stitches, lets it all out until she's screaming and aching and shaking.

Bellamy holds her through it, moving as she quivers. Then it's him who stills, unnatural.

Everyone's too shocked to move. There is a wet stain blossoming on his pants. 

His fingers are still inside her.

"Bellamy?" Clarke asks, dazed and heaving. Turns around to face him. "Why'd you stop?"

He's looking at her, incredulous. She can't recognize this expression, pupils blown wide and mouth parting just slightly.

Shock and disgust coloring his face.

"I remember you. I-" he tries to move her away but she can't walk, still wired, still aching for more. "I can't believe you let me do this. _ Fuck, _Clarke. I _ remember _you."

Calm, she asks, "So?"

It takes him a beat and then he's laughing into her mouth, kissing her like he's been hungry for a long time.

Clarke has very little time to think about everyone around them, just shifts so she can kiss him without her neck hurting, straddles him with no intention of ever letting go now that he remembers.

"You really are depraved," he says, beaming at her as he gets them up and going in one smooth movement. 

There are gasps and realizations and it's alright. They get a lot of time together in this life. It's going to be a good one.

She kisses her soulmate again, smiling back. "Only for you, Bellamy."

Only he can have her like this. This desperation is theirs. They earned it, apocalypse to apocalypse.

"What are we going to do, Clarke?" he asks much later, when they're both sated and happy. Twenty five years without him was too much. She hasn't felt full until he finally slid into her, maddeningly slow, replacing the word _ slut _ with the word _ baby_.

She nestles into the crook of his neck, drags his arm around her waist so she feels safe. The world is always going to shit with the two of them around. Maybe this time they get to have peace.

"Drink. Love. Reign."

Bellamy laughs, kisses the top of her head. They can figure out everything else in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it! Thank you for reading and thank you to the folks behind The 100 WTFluff for their awesome prompt generator and idea that started all of this. 
> 
> **I'd love to hear what you thought - comments and kudos are better than Beliza wedding. :)**
> 
> Meet me in the pit [@marauders-groupie on Tumblr!](https://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com) You can check out the photoset for this fic [right here.](https://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com/post/187335248952) If you reblog it, I'm buying you drinks.


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